Foot-prints of a letter carrier; or, a history of the world's correspondece

XII.

Philadelphia—1793.

The prospects of Philadelphia were brightening up under the influence enterprising men exercised over its commercial interest; and up to 1794 the manufactures, trade, and general business were rapidly extending and improving. Mathew Carey, speaking of our city and prospects, in a pamphlet published in 1793, says,—

“From the period of the adoption of the Federal Government, at which time America was at the lowest ebb of distress, her situation had progressively become more and more prosperous. Confidence, formerly banished, was universally restored. Property of every kind rose to, and in many instances beyond, its real value; and a few revolving years exhibited the interesting spectacle of a young country with a new form of government emerging from a state which had approached very near to anarchy, and acquiring all the stability and nerve of the best-toned and oldest nations.” In this prosperity, which revived the almost extinguished hopes of four millions of people, Philadelphia participated in an eminent degree. Numbers of new houses in almost every street, built in a neat, elegant style, adorned, at the same time that they greatly enlarged, the city. Its population was extending fast: even at that period the number of vessels that entered the port was 1050. Philadelphia still retained its predilection for old sites and associations; for up to this period, and even long afterwards, the main place of business was Front and Water Streets, extending along those streets from Race down to Almond. Front Street below Market, extending down to Walnut, was the great commercial centre of trade. It was here Thomas Bradford, the root of the present generation of that name, was prominent as an editor of the newspaper called “The True American:” his office was on the west side of Front Street, below Market, No. 8. This property was subsequently sold to John Moss, Esq., upon the site of which he built a store especially for his business. Bradford sold out “The True American” to Thomas T. Stiles.

In 1791 the post-office was at No. 7 South Front Street, on the east side. Robert Patton was postmaster: he was appointed to that position August 25, 1791. In 1793 it was removed to No. 36, in the very centre of the trade and commerce of the city.

The building of the “Insurance Company of North America” stood at the southeast corner of Front and Walnut Streets. Ebenezer Hazard, formerly postmaster-general, was the Secretary. The custom-house was also on Front Street near Walnut Street: it occupied seventy-six feet front, and ran through to Water Street.

Much of the early prosperity of this city was due to Benjamin Franklin, who early in life made it his dwelling-place. His business motto was PROGRESS.

The fever of 1793, the most malignant scourge our city ever witnessed, not excepting the cholera of 1832, threw a saddening gloom over all things, paralyzing the energies of men and carrying terror among the women and children. A writer of the time, speaking of it, says, “The consternation of the people of Philadelphia at this period was carried beyond all bounds. Dismay and affright were visible in almost every person’s countenance. Most of those who could by any means make it convenient fled from the city. Of those who remained, many shut themselves up in their houses, being afraid to walk the streets.”

Business was at a stand, if not entirely suspended. That of the post-office went on as usual. In September, however, the postmaster informed the public that, in consequence of the indisposition of two of the letter-carriers he deemed it necessary to request all those who dwelt south of and in Chestnut Street, and in Front and Water Streets and north of Market Street, to call or send for their letters for a few days. Some of the postmasters in the different States used the precaution to dip Philadelphia letters into vinegar with a pair of tongs before they handled them! Several of the subscribers to Philadelphia papers made their servants sprinkle them with vinegar and dry them at the fire before they would venture to touch them.

One hundred years ago, Benjamin Franklin, seeing that Philadelphia was gradually declining in the scale of progress, awoke the Rip Van Winkles of Quakerdom by imparting to them new ideas, furnishing to their mental view more enlarged notions of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and inaugurating a system of education and philosophy which has made his name famous in the world’s history.

His connection with the postal department placed it before the people in a new and improved light, extending trade and commerce by its means to such an extent that in the year 1810 Philadelphia was the leading commercial city in the Union.

Philadelphia, however, lost sight of one important fact in connection with her commercial interest, and that was (to use a speculating phrase) “never to lose a trick” in the game of opposition with others. Thus, while New York was studying the taste of the town in regard to fashions of dress and works of art, for which European nations were then celebrated, Philadelphia was engaged in looking after her manufacturing interests. The consequence was that in the year 1811 New York, taking advantage of her seaboard situation, took the lead in importations, and her market became celebrated for its rich style of dress-goods, and her stores equally so for their gorgeous display of Parisian finery. Instantly that current of trade which had set in so favorably for Philadelphia changed its course to her rival city, and merchants from the South and West flocked there for what, we regret to say, our city was unable to furnish to the extent its facilities afforded.

It seems as if Philadelphia succumbed at once to New York, and permitted the Western and Southern trade to pass away from her without a struggle. For years the commerce of Philadelphia had kept pace with the general progress of the country, but in a moment of weakness, or from some local or political cause, her merchants, whose industry and enterprise had been proverbial in all countries, gave up their shipping interest to a rival city, which the latter has successfully maintained ever since. By this act Philadelphia became an inland city.

If we neglected our shipping, it cannot be said we neglected our manufacturers. They have had ample reason to be grateful for such encouragement, as the city has the honor of being considered second to none in the country,—at least in this department. We have surpassed New York in many important branches of mechanics, and excelled every other city in the Union, perhaps in the world, in manufacturing locomotives and other essential auxiliaries to steamboats, railroads, &c.

POST-OFFICE.

As trade and commerce progressed, the postal department extended its operations, and the Philadelphia post-office was not behind those of other cities in furthering the cause of the great postal institution of the country.

The postal boundaries of our country extend over an area ten times greater than those of England and France combined; three times as large as the whole of France, Britain, Austria, Prussia, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Holland, and Denmark together; one and a half times larger than the Russian Empire, and only one-sixth less than the area covered by sixty states and empires of Europe. The entire area in 1853 was 2,983,153 square miles.

Claiming for Philadelphia, and justly, too, credit for its postal as well as its commercial reputation, we will pass over some years and bring our readers down to a later date. First, however, we annex a list of postmasters of Philadelphia from 1791.

Perhaps no other city in the Union can boast of a list of names in their postal department of men, both as regards character and business qualifications, equal to those we furnish here, and who filled the office with so much honor and credit. We are not, however, so clannish in our notions of locality as to include all the names mentioned here as being entitled to such credit: we make a few exceptions: those exceptions and the reasons are a part of the secret history of post-offices. Several of them have gone to that “bourn from whence no traveller returns,” and those that still live live honored and respected.

LIST OF PHILADELPHIA POSTMASTERS.

Robert Patton, appointed August 25, 1791.
Michael Leib, appointed February 14, 1814.
Richard Bache, appointed Feb. 26, 1819.
Thomas Sargeant, appointed April 16, 1828.
James Page, appointed April 11, 1833.

OFFICE BECAME PRESIDENTIAL, JULY 9, 1836.

James Page, reappointed July 9, 1836.
John C. Montgomery, appointed March 23, 1841.
James Hoy, Jr., appointed June 26, 1844.
George F. Lehman, appointed May 5, 1845.
William J. P. White, appointed May 9, 1849.
John Miller, appointed April 1, 1853.
Gideon F. Westcott, appointed March 19, 1857.
Nathaniel B. Browne, appointed May 30, 1859.
Cornelius A. Walborn, appointed April 20, 1861.

The past history of our city shows that the post-office was but a minor consideration on the part of the historian who attempted to speak of its institutions. Even those whose business it was to furnish statistics and local facts invariably overlooked the post-office. A glance back through the vista of time presents to the eye a panoramic view of the buildings which were used for postal purposes; and a more motley architectural picture scarcely ever presented itself to sight. From the time Benjamin Franklin had his office in a portion of his printing-shop to the present, we cannot find the department ever blessed with even a decent building for postal purposes until the one now occupied for that special service was erected.

True, the Old Coffee-House on Second Street was the centre of trade, and merchants often met there to discuss commercial matters and secure their foreign papers and letters: still, it was not calculated for the general business of the postal service. From 1793, passing along from street to street, we at last come to Dr. Jayne’s gloomy building, where, amid the sound of steam-engines, the fumes from eating-houses, and the dead-rat smell from lager-beer saloons, we find the operations of the great postal business of the city moving on. The very atmosphere was as injurious to the health of the employees as its dark and dingy appearance was painful to those who visited it.

Emerging from this, we come into a new and beautiful building, erected on Chestnut Street below Fifth. For this edifice, so conveniently situated, so light and airy, so admirably adapted to postal business, the community is solely indebted to Postmaster Cornelius A. Walborn, Esq.

A GLANCE AT THE PHILADELPHIA POST-OFFICE FROM AN ARCHITECTURAL POINT OF VIEW.

The Philadelphia post-office was completed and ready for the transaction of business on the 23d of March, 1863. It is situated on Chestnut Street, between Fourth and Fifth Streets, adjoining the custom-house. The contrast between these two buildings is most remarkable: one presents the view we have in classic illustrations of the Parthenon of Athens; the other, disdaining all the associations which the history of Greece and Rome throws around our ideas of classic architectural beauty, looms up before us, blending the style of the rural districts of France (Alaon) with that of the city of Paris in the seventeenth century.

The Exchange of Paris (La Bourse), in the Rue Vivienne, seems, at least in part, to have furnished for our post-office the idea for its architectural construction. This is more observable in its Attic design, known in the modern French school as the “masked Attic.” The front of the Philadelphia post-office is cased or veneered with white marble, and, in connection with the peculiar Attic style, presents an appearance by no means flattering to the architect who designed it.

Modern architects consult variety rather than harmony in drawing their plans. Thus, foreign ornaments of a more classic form are occasionally mingled with them: hence we have presented to us an incongruous style, offensive alike to good taste and judgment.

The Philadelphia post-office reminds us very much of the Paris post-office (Hotel des Postes), which is situated east of the Palais Royal: it has a handsome front, but in its tout ensemble does not present to view much architectural beauty either in style or design. France, like England, never considered the architecture of a country as being inseparable from its history: hence her public buildings present to view the combined peculiarities of the styles and eras of the sixteen different orders which have marked the progress of architecture since the building of the great temple of Samos.

In this country, with few exceptions, we have not studied architecture with an eye to a national feature: on the contrary, our artists have copied the styles of all nations, from which designs are made to please the eye only, without regard to originality or the age in which we live. This cannot be called an architectural construction, but rather an adaptation of Grecian models to the buildings of our own time. There is no originality here.

A building may be well arranged for all purposes of mere convenience, but in reality, if destitute of harmony in its outward appearance, it cannot be called an architectural construction. This remark will apply to the buildings in our country generally, and equally, as stated, to those of England and France.

If the Philadelphia post-office is devoid of these requisites as regards its exterior, its interior makes full amends.

Every department is so constructed and arranged that there is no clashing or cause of impediment in the general routine of its business. Each man has his position, each bureau its place, and over all the chief clerk, from an elevated position, has an eye to every action and movement of the employees. To Cornelius A. Walborn, Esq., the present efficient postmaster [1866], is the department indebted for the admirable arrangements of the Philadelphia post-office.

In speaking of the outward appearance of “our post-office,” we may be singular in our ideas of what constitutes architectural beauty, and others may appreciate what we censure. It is not, however, altogether a matter of taste with us, but a sense of what constitutes harmony. In every thing that owes its existence to nature alone, there is harmony. It is, in fact, the music of the spheres joining chorus with the growth of plants and flowers, which the ancients believed came blooming into life with music; or, as the poet says, it may be “the language of some other state, born of its memory.” Thus, in all things imitative of nature there should be harmony. Why not in art?

Perhaps there is no other block of buildings in this city that presents a greater variety of architectural incongruities than does that wherein stands the Philadelphia post-office. It may be called a picturesque view of brick, marble, and mortar thrown together without regard to order, style, or harmony.

Let the classic reader cast his eyes over the topographical view of Olympia as seen from the walls of Altis, glancing down through the “Sacred Grove” and along the Alpheus River: you will see even at that period, 440 B.C., how strictly the ancients adhered to harmony. The Temple of Jupiter and the Prytaneum or Senate-house, although widely different in their architectural designing, bore nevertheless a remarkable similarity in style, so as to preserve what might be termed classic harmony. Near to the Mount of Saturn stood the Temple of Juno. In the Temple of Vesta, the Theatre, the Hypodrammon, even to the Stables of Œnomaus and the Workshop of Phidias, the same harmonic traits in style and design were observable. Every thing was classic, every thing artistic.

How is this feature observed with us? Speaking of the block alluded to above, embracing the custom-house, the post-office, the Philadelphia Bank, the Farmers’ and Mechanics’ Bank, &c., perhaps the following scene from R. B. Sheridan’s “School for Scandal” will give a better description of the style of architecture characterizing each than any thing we could furnish.

The several characters are describing the personal appearance of a lady:—

“Crabtree.—She has the oddest countenance, a collection of features from all corners of the globe.

“Sir Benjamin.—She has, indeed, an Irish front.

“Crabtree.—Caledonian locks.

“Sir Benjamin.—Dutch nose.

“Crabtree.—Austrian lips.

“Sir Benjamin.—The complexion of a Spaniard.

“Crabtree.—And teeth à la Chinoise.

“Sir Benjamin.—In short, her face resembles a table d’hôte at Spa, where no two guests are of a nation.”

OUTSIDE AND INSIDE VIEW OF THE PHILADELPHIA POST-OFFICE.

The outside of a post-office before the opening of its doors reminds one of a vast sleeping city, cold and calm, though containing within itself all the elements that make up a living, sleepless world. As the stars shine down on the earth and move on in their spheres, so feeble lights gleam up from the post-office windows to denote that “watchers” of the night are there, and thus, like the machinery of the great world, move on the wheels of this epitomized one.

Dull and heavy glide on the hours of night; silence like that of the prairie rests for a while on and around the city, save the howl of some watchful dog and the far-off sound of a tinkling bell. A city at night, wrapped in the curtains darkness throws around it, is like a vast sepulchre, and visited alike with ghosts from the spirit-world. Presently the dark panorama begins to move: there is an uprising of a long stream of light in the eastern sky; a vast and mysterious movement, as impulsive and as sudden as that of light, agitates the city; sounds quick and incessant come upon the ear,—rattling of wheels, ringing of bells: the world and its inhabitants are awake. The night dream is over; reality assumes its power once again. Moving on, men, women, and children take their respective ways to business or pleasure, for this world is made up of both. There you see the mechanic, there the merchant looking for the “early worm,” there the newsboy hurrying to his morning traffic in literature, himself its evil genius, there the housebreaker moving quietly away from the scene of his villany, and there the man of pleasure staggering to his wretched home. There is one point at which, however, many assemble: there, clustered around a marbled veneered building,—for it is not all marble,—you can read in the looks of the crowd the world’s history, and alike the name of the building: it is the Philadelphia post-office. The sun that awoke millions from their sleep now shines down and sheds its light around this “mimic world:” it awakes; its night slumber is over; the hour has arrived—action, action. The doors open—the crowd rush in. Ah! what is life?—one scene of struggle and strife, and for what? That’s the question.

“Quid sit futurum eras fuge quærere”

is not a bad idea of the poet Horace: its literal meaning is, “Avoid all inquiry with respect to what may happen to-morrow.” We should not look so anxiously into the future as to preclude all present enjoyment.

Action, action is the motto of our land. This the effect of a cause,—that cause the Revolution. It changed alike men and the opinion of nations upon the subject of sovereignty. Mental, physical, political, speculative, and financial revolutions are all the results of one great cause,—a cause bearing date 1776. Here we are; here in the post-office, one of the branches of the General Government. This is the little world of letters, this the index to the inner history of man. It is a book of thoughts.

The Deposit-Windows.—These are surrounded by a motley crew; letters are dropped in hastily, some carefully by those who write in doubt and seem to hesitate the sending until the last moment. Why? Ah! reader, there is a mystery in all things: here mystery becomes secrecy. There you see an old lady carefully depositing a letter: she glances down the opening, takes one last look, and, sighing, silently moves away. What are the contents of that letter? It is her secret.

Pass on to the newspaper—not window; for newspapers are a wholesale article: singly they are mere letters; in bulk they are legion. You must go to a door, and there you will see bags piled Olympus high: these are opened and distributed into their respective pouches to go to all parts of the habitable world; for newspapers now are, like letters, “the world’s correspondents.” The inside of the office is now wide awake, the world outside is in arms and “eager for the fray.” Millions of letters go and come, millions of hearts are made glad by a mere stroke of the pen, which passes lightning-like through this postal medium, millions of hearts are alike made sad, and mourn and sob over the one line that brings news of sickness and of death.

The post-office in many points of view presents the appearance of a besieged fort. The chief clerk is at his post: he stands on a platform somewhat elevated above the line of the main floor; his eye glances along the line of clerks, some of whom are at the (port-holes) delivery-windows, awaiting the outward attack. The assault commences, the windows are assailed. Loud voices are heard, one above the rest shouts 2400: this is answered by an immediate discharge from within, which silences battery 2400. These attacks continue along the “box line” until the demand for surrender on the one side is answered by a furious discharge of epistolary ammunition on the other. Both parties retire satisfied with the result. The victory, however, is always on the side of the post-office: the effect of the fire from their port-holes is felt when all within its lines are quiet. The wheels of the department uninjured move on. Let us take a glance through yonder opening. We are on the outside, looking into the interior of this postal fortress. Hundreds of active business-men are moving about in their shirt-sleeves, looking fierce and desperate: they are engaged in a great struggle,—a struggle with time. Some are dragging along the vast extent of flooring large leather pouches, others huge canvas bags: it seems, as you gaze, that they are the bodies of the dead and wounded, the result of the recent attack. Not so; they are mail-bags. See how furiously one is thrown down: it is seized upon as if a victim to be sacrificed. “Brass lock,” yells one. “Iron,” screams another. Brass or iron, they are quickly unlocked, and in an instant their contents are scattered like chaff, and away they go to the four quarters of the globe as fast as busy hands, wind, tide, and steam can take them.

No fort—not even Sumter, Darling, or the defences of Vicksburg—ever presented a more busy scene of life and death than does the post-office on the opening of mail-bags: it may indeed be compared to “life and death;” for, as we have said, it is a “struggle with time.”

And yet what to an outsider might seem all chaos, system has reduced to perfect order; and if the same observer will look once more into the office after these sudden attacks on mail-pouches and bags, he will see the parties sitting quietly down, seemingly well contented with the result of the strife between time, matter, and motion,—the conquerors they.

Mr. William Lewars, author of “Her Majesty’s Mails,” thus describes the scenes which daily occur from 5.45 to 6 o’clock in the London post-office:—

“It is then that an impetuous crowd enters the hall, and letters and newspapers begin to fall in quite a literary hail-storm. The newspaper-window, ever yawning for more, is presently surrounded and besieged by an array of boys of all ages and costumes, together with children of a larger growth, who are all alike pushing, heaving, and surging in one great mass. The window with tremendous gape is assaulted with showers of papers which fly thicker and faster than the driven snow. Now it is that small boys of eleven and twelve years of age, panting, Sinbad-like, under the weight of huge bundles of newspapers, manage somehow to dart about and make rapid sorties into other ranks of boys, utterly disregarding the cries of the official policemen, who vainly endeavor to reduce the tumult into something like post-office order. If the lads cannot quietly and easily disembogue, they will whiz their missiles of intelligence over other people’s heads, now and then sweeping off hats and caps with the force of shot. The gathering every moment increases in number and intensifies in purpose; arms, legs, sacks, baskets, heads, bundles, and woollen comforters—for who ever saw a veritable newspaper-boy without that appendage?—seem to be getting into a state of confusion and disagreeable communism, and ‘yet the cry is still they come.’ Heaps of papers of widely-opposed political views are thrown in together; no longer placed carefully in the openings, they are now sent in in sackfuls and basketfuls, while over the heads of the surging crowd come flying back the empty sacks thrown out of the office by the porters inside. Semi-official legends, with a very strong smack of probability about them, tell of sundry boys being thrown in, seized, emptied, and thrown out again void. As six o’clock approaches still nearer and nearer, the turmoil increases more perceptibly, for the intelligent British public is fully alive to the awful truth that the post-office officials never allow a minute of grace, and that “Newspaper Fair” must be over when the last stroke of six is heard. One, in rush files of laggard boys who have purposely loitered in the hope of a little pleasurable excitement; two, and grown men hurry in with their last sacks; three, the struggle resembles nothing so much as a pantomimic mêlée; four, a Babel of tongues vociferating desperately; five, final and furious showers of papers, sacks, and bags; and six, when all the windows fall like so many swords of Damocles, and the slits close with such a sudden and simultaneous snap, that we naturally suppose it to be a part of the post-office operations that attempts should be made to guillotine a score of hands; and then all is over so far as the outsiders are concerned.

“Among the letter-boxes, scenes somewhat similar have been enacted. Letters of every shape and color, and of all weights, have unceasingly poured in; tidings of life and death, hope and despair, success and failure, triumph and defeat, joy and sorrow; letters from friends and notes from lawyers, appeals from children and stern advice from parents, offers from anxious-hearted young gentlemen and ‘first yeses’ or refusals from young maidens, letters containing that snug appointment so long promised you, and ‘little bills’ with requests for immediate payments, ‘together with six-and-eightpence;’ cream-colored missives telling of happy consummations, and black-edged envelopes telling of death and the grave; sober-looking advice notes, doubtless telling when ‘our Mr. Puffwell’ would do himself the honor of calling upon you, and elegant-looking billets, in which business is never mentioned, all jostled each other for a short time; but the stream of gladness and of woe was stopped, at least for one night, when the last stroke of six was heard. The post-office, like a huge monster,—to which one writer has likened it,—has swallowed an enormous meal, and, gorged to the full, it must now commence the process of digestion. While laggard boys, to whom cartoons by one ‘William Hogarth’ should be shown, are muttering, ‘Too late,’ and retiring discomfited, we, having obtained the requisite ‘open sesame,’ will make our way to the interior of the building. Threading our course through several passages, we soon find ourselves among enormous apartments well lit up, where hundreds of human beings are moving about, lifting, shuffling, stamping, and sorting huge piles of letters, and still more enormous piles of newspapers, in what seems at first sight hopeless confusion, but in what is really the most admirable order. In the newspaper-room, men have been engaged not only in emptying the sacks flung in by strong-armed men and weak-legged boys, but also in raking up the single papers into large baskets and conveying them up and down ‘hoists’ into various divisions of the building. Some estimate of the value of these mechanical appliances, moved, of course, by steam-power, may be formed from the fact that hundreds of tons of paper pass up and down these lifts every week. As many of the newspapers escape from their covers in the excitement of posting, each night two or three officers are busily engaged during the whole time of despatch in endeavoring to restore wrappers to newspapers found without any address. Great as is the care exercised in this respect, it will occasionally happen that wrong newspapers will find their way into loose wrappers not belonging to them; and, under the circumstances, it would be by no means a matter of wonder if—as has been more than once pointed out—Mr. Bright should, instead of his ‘Morning Star,’ receive a copy of the ‘Saturday Review,’ or an evangelical curate the ‘Guardian’ or ‘Punch,’ in place of his ‘Record’ paper.

“In the letter-room the officers are no less busily engaged: a number of them are constantly at work, during the hours of the despatch, in the operation of placing each letter with the address and postage-label uppermost, so as to facilitate the process of stamping. In the general post-office the stamping is partly effected by machinery and partly by hand, and consists simply in imprinting upon each letter the date, hour, and place of posting, while at the same time the queen’s head with which the letter is ornamented and franked gets disfigured. It will easily be imagined that a letter containing a box of pills stands a very good chance of being damaged under this manipulation, as a good stamper will strike about fifty letters in a minute. Unpaid letters are kept apart, as they require stamping in a different-colored ink and with the double postage. Such letters create much extra labor, and are a source of incessant trouble to the department, inasmuch as from the time of their posting in London to their delivery at the Land’s End or John O’Groat’s, every officer through whose hands they may pass has to keep a cash account of them. The double postage on such letters is more than earned by the post-office. All unfastened and torn letters, too, are picked out and conveyed to another portion of the large room; and it requires the unremitting attention of several busy individuals to finish the work left undone by the British public. It is scarcely credible that above two hundred and fifty letters are daily posted open, and bearing not the slightest mark of ever having been fastened in any way; but such is the fact. A fruitful source of extra work to this branch of the office arises through the posting of flimsy boxes containing feathers, slippers, and other récherché articles of female dress, pillboxes containing jewelry, and even bottles. The latter, however, are detained, glass articles and sharp instruments of any sort, whenever detected, being returned to the senders. These frail things, thrown in and buried under the heaps of correspondence, get crushed and broken: yet all are made up again carefully and resealed.

“When the letters have been stamped, and those insufficiently paid picked out, they are carried away to undergo the process of sorting. In this operation they are very rapidly divided into ‘roads,’ representing a line of large towns: thus, letters for Derby, Loughborough, Nottingham, Lincoln, etc., might be placed in companionship with one division or ‘road,’ and Bilston, Wednesbury, Walsall, West Bromwich, etc., in another.”

As we have stated, the immense amount of business transacted in the post-offices of large cities is not unfrequently lost sight of,—business transactions of a nature that few understand or comprehend, and which exercise an influence on men and nations equally as powerful as that of the press.

Few persons are acquainted with the inner arrangements of a post-office. Let any one glance into it as he passes, and he will be struck with the vast pile of mail-matter constantly arriving and departing, as well as the number of hands engaged in their arranging and distributing. Forty mails arrive and depart in the twenty-four hours,—making over three hundred pouches, besides canvas bags containing newspapers, &c.: these are estimated more by bulk than numbers.

Mind, intellect, strength, quickness of action and of thought, are all required here, and found. Without this, confusion worse confounded would ensue, and the pulsation of this little world would cease to throb.

A post-office is a little world: it is peopled with the thoughts of men that go and come, pass and repass, move on afar and away over land and water to other cities, and return again,—some oppressed, some elated: “so runs the world away!”

What is the romance of a post-office but its reality? It is a history of letters. Peep into their contents, and you read a volume far surpassing the wildest flights of the imagination. And yet they are as a sealed book to all except those to whom they are directed. Yet you can read it in the action of the recipients, trace its effects, the moral is there.

Glance at the ladies’ window: see that tall female, upon whose face you can trace the dark lines of sorrow. Day after day has she called, asking in a trembling voice for a letter. She had told the clerk a sad story of an absent son,—told it for the purpose of explaining the cause of her frequent visits. Did she but know that beneath a blasted tree, scathed by the lightning flash of a thousand rebel muskets, he lies buried,—deep, deep down in the cold ground, with hundreds of others, both friends and foes, who fell there in bloody strife. But when the startling news did come, her tall form was seen no more at that window. She was alone in the world! Watch that window: it is an index to a volume of life. Not alone the broken-hearted and the sorrowing, not alone the forsaken wife and the expectant maiden, not alone the anxious mother, but the gay, the frivolous, the abandoned, all flock here; for all are mixed up in the great struggle of life.

Pass on to the box-window. There you read the history of men in trade and commerce. There you have a compendium of that wonderful thing known as and called ‘Change. There you will observe the various and peculiar characteristics of men as they eagerly clutch their letters and rush away. Watch their actions, and you will find that a line or two in a letter convulses the market, and for a while there is a commotion on ’Change. Watch the politician: by his looks you can read the secret of his heart. If you follow his footsteps and read the name of the publication-office into which he plunges, the chief editorial next day tells its contents. Perhaps it will read, “Reliable Intelligence from Richmond. The Rebel Army well supplied with Ammunition. Probable Recognition by England, &c.” Or, perhaps, if the publication-office should be on Fourth or Third Street, it may read, “Glorious News from Grant’s Army, &c.”

There is another portion of a post-office which adds another page to its romantic history; and that is the “Carriers’ Department.” Many a sad tale has the carrier to tell,—many a strange incident connected with his “constant round.” A glance into this room shows you a number of men busily engaged in assorting or “blocking” the letters on their route. These they receive in bulk from the distributor, which are passed to them from a smaller room through a series of pigeon-holes. And here we have a most remarkable illustration of what the human mind is capable of accomplishing. Let us explain. In 1854 the corporate limits of the city of Philadelphia were made coextensive with those of the county, covering an area of one hundred and twenty square miles, and placing twenty-one towns and villages under the guardianship of one Mayor and City Council. In nearly all of these there were separate post-offices. The bringing of all these rural districts under one general postal head was one of the first suggestions that Mr. C. A. Walborn made to the department shortly after he became postmaster of this city. Postmaster-General Blair entered fully into his views upon this subject, and thus the whole rural district embracing the area named above is under one general postal head. Mr. Walborn established station-offices, engaged carriers; and letters are distributed within an area of over one hundred miles, with as much ease and facility as they were in the limits of the old city proper.

For the accommodation of persons residing at points remote from the general post-office, in Chestnut Street, stations have been arranged to which four mails are sent daily. In the extreme rural sections, three daily deliveries are considered sufficient by the residents, but four collections are made of matter for delivery or mailing. These stations are located as follows:—A, 41 South Eighteenth Street; B, Market Street, west of Thirty-Seventh, West Philadelphia; C, southeast corner of Broad and Coates Streets; D, 1206 North Third Street; E, corner Richmond and William Streets, Port Richmond; F, 90 Main Street, Frankford; G, Main Street, below Railroad Depot, Germantown; H, Main Street, below Church Lane, Chestnut Hill; I, Main Street, below Grape, Manayunk; K, Washington Street, near Fifth.

The carriers deliver letters and papers within the following bounds:—Delaware River on the east; Montgomery county line on the west; upper end of Frankford, Chestnut Hill, and Andora on the north; Delaware county line on the south, including the old districts of Kensington, Port Richmond, Bridesburg, Frankford, Rising Sun, Nicetown, Germantown, Mount Airy, Chestnut Hill, Falls of Schuylkill, Manayunk, Leverington, Andora, Blockley, Haddington, Hestonville, Belmont, and Kingsessing. If thrown into a square, this would form a territory of about ten by fifteen miles.

Sixty-three carriers are employed, making four deliveries daily, within the following boundaries: Delaware River, Schuylkill River, Canal Street, and York Street. There are thirty-four persons also employed exclusively in collecting letters from places of deposit within the same district. They make five collections daily. The rural districts, including that territory which is contained within the limits of Delaware county line on the south, Montgomery county line on the west, Delaware River on the east, and on the north the northern boundary of Chestnut Hill, Germantown, and Frankford, occupy twenty-four persons, making at least three trips per day to collect and deliver letters. There is, therefore, a force of one hundred and twenty-one carriers and collectors employed.

The number of letters received by mail and delivered by carriers amounted, last quarter, to 1,134,111. They collected and delivered, in the same period, 389,233 local or drop letters, making a total delivery of 1,523,344.44

The number of papers received by mail and delivered during this period was 117,010; the number of local or drop papers was 35,257, giving a total delivered, 152,267. The number of letters returned from misdirection, removal, refusal to pay postage, and similar reasons, was 8742. The number of letters for the mail collected from lamp-posts and other located boxes of deposit was 744,723; and the number of newspapers similarly obtained, 59,292,—a total of 804,015.

THE LETTER-CARRYING SYSTEM.

But few persons have any adequate idea of the vast number of letters which day after day pass through the post-office into the hands of the carrier, to be delivered at their final destination. The following list gives the number of letters delivered and collected in the four largest cities during the month of June, 1865:—

During the same period there were collected from pillar or lamp-post boxes 1,294,850 letters.

The annexed statement gives the number of letters delivered in three principal cities:—

So, according to this, the amount of business transacted through the Philadelphia post-office is almost equal to that of Boston, Baltimore, and Chicago combined. Statistics further show that it is nearly equal to the combined business of Brooklyn, St. Louis, Washington, Cincinnati, and Cleveland.

From the little room which we have termed the “distribution-room,” letters are sent and scattered over the area named above, to the full amount of 18,000 daily, not including those called “city drops.” The distributor is to know, or is supposed to know, apart from consulting the directory, the name of every street, lane, and alley, as well as their locality, so that he can place the letters so directed into their separate pigeon-holes, both for the city carriers and the “subs.” He has to observe the limits of certain routes, and see that his letters do not go astray, thus causing a delay in the delivery of at least twenty-four hours. Many letters are received without direction, and others, again, so imperfectly given that it requires the exercise of a little of Job’s patience, assisted by an imperfect directory, to find out where they actually belong. The carriers, however, to whom these letters are submitted, being familiar with the names of persons on their routes, select from this débris of letters those that they think belong to the parties to whom they are so carelessly directed. A good carrier never brings back a letter to the office until he is fully satisfied that it is not on his route. Philadelphia can boast of such.

This retentive quality is also powerfully exercised at the box-windows. There are 2600 boxes, which we may say will average six letters each daily, thus making an aggregate of 15,600. These letters are selected from the “pile” by clerks, who actually know not only the names of the owners of the boxes, but the names of those who are entitled to their use,—as, for instance, the clerks and porters of the parties engaging them. This is what we term a wonderful exercise of memory and its practical application. Newspapers are distributed on the same principle as are the letters.

The newspaper department of a post-office is one that may well be called the “reservoir” of the press: here flows all that makes up that vast institution, here comes the highest standard of our literature, down to the meanest sheet venality produces. A number of men are constantly employed in the newspaper room, or, as we term it, “the rotunda of literature.” This is emphatically the wholesale room; for they deal in bulk. Papers coming singly, directed to individuals, pass through the same process as do the letters. The packages directed to neighboring cities find their way through the “rotunda” in canvas bags to their respective places of destination. Let us here say one word of

THE PRESS.

It has identified itself with, and forms one of the main features of, our great republic. Its very liberty is essential to the nature of a free state. Its complicity and power claim for it a consideration which no other department of literature and science, however popular, can attain. The press of our country is now the medium, if not, in fact, the very source, of that knowledge of which as a nation we are so justly proud.

The work of the post-office is of such a nature, changing its character with every new incumbent, that it is utterly impossible to reduce it to a system of permanent order during one term of office. Move, however, it must, right or wrong: hence it is that some portion of its machinery may get out of order and thus militate against the probability of reaching perfection. Perfection! and who seeks perfection in any of the institutions established by man? Nature alone “is perfect indeed.” It was so from the beginning, not only in its elements and principles, but in its members and its organs.

“The post-office,” says a writer in “Fraser’s Magazine” for September 2, 1862, “no longer assumes to be perfect, and its conductors have renounced their claims to infallibility. Suggested improvements, if they can sustain the indispensable test of rigid scrutiny, are welcomed, and not, as of old, frowned away. The department acts under the conviction that to thrive it must discard the confidence heretofore placed in legal prohibitions, and seek its continuance of prosperity only by deserving it.”

The English post-office has far better opportunities of rendering its system more perfect than it is, from the fact that its clerks are not discharged on every change made in the heads of the department by the government. They are fixtures. But in this country no one engaged in a public office under one administration can calculate being continued under another.

A clerk in the post-office, being appointed for an especial duty, troubles himself very little about that of any other. He takes no interest in the general business or details of the office, from the fact that his situation is not a permanent one: hence it is that few postmasters are enabled, within four years, to bring the office out of the chaos into which a previous administration had reduced it, so as to congratulate himself upon making one step towards perfection. He has to study the political elements outside first, and by the time these are reconciled, nearly one-third of his term has expired. In another portion of this work we have alluded to this political clog placed against the wheels of the postal department, and retarding, if not materially impairing, its social, moral, and financial interests.

LETTER-CARRIERS.

Letter-carriers are a very important class of men,—important, we mean, in their connection with the postal department. We speak of them here because their duties are not generally known to the public, nor their services properly appreciated or rewarded by the department. They are the “walking posts,” and carry with them daily thousands of dollars, which rarely are lost on their way to the recipients. The instances are so few of dishonest carriers that we have often been surprised that the fact has not been recorded ere this, so as it might be placed in juxtaposition with those élite rogues in office who are daily robbing the government of millions. Is it because they are generally faithful? or is it because the position of a letter-carrier is one that requires no consideration from the department beyond the annual—rather limited—stipend for their services? The letter-carriers of our country represent a political class: they come forth from their respective wards under, as it were, leading politicians. The postmaster, in fact, has scarcely a voice in making these appointments. We have no objection to this system, as it is one peculiarly allied to the institutions of our country and mode of election; but we do object to good and honest men being discharged simply from the fact that a few politicians outside of an office want to get their particular friends in. This can scarcely be called rotation in office, as it frequently assumes an unjust, if not an intolerant, exercise of power.

We have alluded to the English post-office as being perhaps the best-ordered and best-conducted in the world, for there changes are not made.

In England carriers are classified. The lowest class are not so well paid, receiving only from 18 to 25 shillings per week. They are allowed by government, however, to receive presents, and their Christmas boxes and New-Year gifts,—thus realizing a nice little sum of money, as well as many useful and ornamental articles.45 If the salary of a letter-carrier in England is not high, the position is so identified with the governmental patronage that he becomes a part and portion of the great institution itself. If he is taken sick, he has medical attendance and medicine furnished gratis. When unfitted for work, he may retire upon a pension, for which he has not to pay a farthing; and during service, if he insure his life for the benefit of his family, the post-office will assist him to pay the premium: this is done by allowing him twenty per cent. on all his payments. Every year the letter-carriers are allowed a fortnight holiday without any deduction from their pay. Many spare hours each day may be devoted to other pursuits; for, if when at work at the office his hours of duty exceed eight hours daily, he is at full liberty to ask for investigation and redress. See p. 205, Kendall.

The higher grade of carriers are distinguished from the lower by wearing a livery of the department and at its expense, viz.:—a scarlet coat with a blue collar, and buttons stamped with an impression of the royal arms. The carriers of the two-penny post wear the common citizens’ dress.

We have alluded to the general character of the letter-carriers of our city, and, we may justly and proudly say, of our country, being equal in point of moral standard, correct deportment, and honesty of purpose, to any other (public) class of men in the Union. Of this fact the writer has opportunities of knowing; and when we take into consideration the extremely low salaries they receive,—scarcely sufficient to support them,—the fact impresses itself upon us, as it should on the government, that a “carrier’s fidelity, diligence, and experience should be properly rewarded.” We quote here nearly every postmaster-general’s language, but as yet the words only stand on the record!

During the writer’s connection with the department, there were but two instances of carriers being detected in opening letters and appropriating their contents to their own use. One of these men died suddenly while under heavy bonds for his appearance at court to answer for his crime; the other is now expiating his crime in the Penitentiary.

We have spoken more particularly about carriers and their general good character; but our remarks will apply to those who occupy positions in every department, from the chief clerks down to the wounded soldier who sweeps out the office.46 It certainly must be a source of satisfaction to postmasters generally, that peculation, fraud, and robbery in their departments are of very rare occurrence. Many losses have been charged to the department, but in nine cases out of ten they have been traced to parties who act as carriers between the post-office and merchants’ counting-houses. These are boys and clerks who are authorized by merchants to take letters from their boxes,

many of which, as we can prove, never reached their employers, but were opened and the money extracted. Under the old State laws this was laid down as simply a breach of trust: it is now made a criminal offence, and subjects the guilty party to imprisonment. Since the passage of this law there have been but few such breaches of trust.

In another portion of this work we have alluded to the decoy system as being uncalled for and insulting to the employees. It does seem as if the public and even postmasters themselves have an idea that dishonesty is a national calamity, and that it becomes a duty with them to suspect alike all who are in their employ. Suspicion, however, is no proof; and we are inclined to think that many open robberies of the government can be traced to the fact that high positions seem to sanction the deed. The poor wretch who steals a loaf of bread to keep his family from starving finds no mercy at the hands of the law, while the wholesale robber, the thief of millions, is simply required to make the amount stolen good! Where one public official robber is convicted for appropriating the public funds to his own use, thousands are annually tried and punished for taking a penny loaf! It is no wonder, therefore, that suspicion should haunt the guilty mind, and every man in power judge of others by the example set in high places.

Some years ago, long before the postal system became the mighty engine of power that it is now, a Philadelphia postmaster, since gathered to his fathers, openly stated that no man should intrust a clerk in the post-office (his own office) with the knowledge that a letter posted contained money!

How different is the English post-office in this respect from ours! There the employees are considered a part and portion of its national character, identified with it by all those ties which protection gives and justice sanctions. The government not only studies the present interest of all connected with the postal department, but amply provides for that of the future. (See p. 147.) Their confidence is not easily shaken; but like Othello, when they doubt, they prove; and on the proof there is no more but this:—Away at once!

IMPORTANT POSTAL TABLES.

The following tables, carefully prepared, fully prove that there is no surer test of the advance of business and commercial enterprise than that which is learned from the increase of postage. A glance at the table from 1790 shows a wonderful increase in the short space of eight or ten years, entirely unexampled in the history of the world; and taken in connection, as we think it may be, with a similar increase in other statistics, it sets all previous examples completely aside. The fact is, the country is ignorant of the history of our postal department, a knowledge of which would tend materially to strengthen that love of country which a state of ignorance naturally lessens. The post-office department should no longer be as a sealed book to the nation.

Statement of Receipts and Expenditures of the Post-Office Department under Various Heads, and by States, for the Year ending June 30, 1862.

[Transcriber’s note: Table below is the right side of the table above, with first column repeated.]